Breaking Point
by everyonedeservesachancetoFLY
Summary: Gilbert Beilschmidt has always been too stubborn, too proud, and too awesome to cry, but everyone has a breaking point. AU, human fic, slight warning for Gilbert's copious use of a certain f-word. REPOSTED from my other account.


**Disclaimer: I'm not Hidekaz Himaruya, nor do I claim to be…**

**VERY IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE: This has been REPOSTED from my other fanfiction account that I am no longer using! So no, I did not plagiarize xGeminiXRosex's fic… I *am* xGeminiXRosex. For a fuller explanation of why I transferred my (few) fics from that account onto this account… you can actually go to either of my accounts and read what I've written on my profiles.**

**Anyway… back to what I had written when the fic was posted on my other account. Here's a bit of angst featuring our favorite awesome albino. It's AU, as the summary says, and Gilbert is fourteen for the main part of the story. Any and all Beilschmidt relatives other than Ludwig are unnamed OC's as far as I'm concerned, although you can think of their father or grandfather as Germania if you'd like to…**

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Gilbert Beilschmidt did not cry in front of people. He didn't know if it was because of his self-professed awesomeness, or his pride, or just his sheer stubbornness, but for whichever reason it was, he just didn't.

Even when he was as young as four or five, if he fell down the stairs and hit his head or tripped and skinned his knee, he'd just get right back up, unfazed, without so much as a whimper. "I'm Prussian! I don't cry about any stupid fall!" he'd announce proudly, hands on hips, face set in determination. If his mother or grandmother tried to fuss over him and give him bandages or ice, he'd shove them off and do his best to get whatever he needed for himself. Whenever he had to get shots at the doctor's office, he'd boldly sit through it, telling the nurses that he wasn't afraid of needles or blood or any of that; he could take it. Then he'd go on to angrily scream at them the second they touched his little brother. Ludwig was the younger one, so he was allowed to get scared and cry, even though he almost never did. Gilbert was the older brother. He had to be stronger, tougher.

When he was seven and he and Ludwig accidentally set the living room curtains on fire while playing with their mother's candle – against the rules, of course – he came close to crying when he realized that they could've burnt the entire house down if they hadn't run and told their mother in time. It didn't matter how badly Gilbert wanted to cry when that realization hit or when their mother yelled at them for playing with fire after the initial shock was over, though. All that mattered was that he didn't give in to that urge.

When he was nine and the family dog died, he still didn't shed a single tear. Ludwig took it much harder than he did since he'd always viewed the dog as somewhat of his personal pet, but Gilbert himself was completely calm. He just frowned, briefly wished he'd played fetch with the dog a little bit more often while it was still around, and asked if they could get a new puppy.

When Gilbert was twelve, he realized that he was attracted to both girls and boys and that he had the power to initiate romantic relationships. Maybe he was a bit young, but that power was still in his awesomely charismatic hands. When Roderich and Elizabeta both rejected his advances, he got frustrated, but he wasn't by any means devastated. Instead he chalked it up to his not having hit his growth spurt yet and decided he'd just have to wait a few years and try again.

Then, when he was fourteen, his grandfather died. Even then, when his mother first broke the news to him, he didn't cry. Ludwig even cried a bit, and not only was he the master of stoic seriousness; he was thirteen, nearly the same age as Gilbert himself. But Gilbert just felt a slight emptiness inside.

_Should I be crying?_ He wondered, feeling that the emptiness might be guilt deep down for his lack of tears.

Soon afterward, it came time for the funeral. Gilbert hadn't been to a funeral since he was so tiny that he had no memory of it now. He probably hadn't even known what was happening at the time. For this funeral, however, he was well of age to be conscious of what it meant and to remember it years later, if not for his entire life.

He almost managed to make it. Some of his older relatives went to the podium up in the front of the room near the casket to make their speeches, one by one, and he became increasingly aware of everyone crying around him. He gritted his teeth, angled his head down, and willed himself harder than ever not to succumb to the impulse to cry. His pride, or his awesomeness, or his stubbornness, whichever it was, couldn't fail him now. He allowed himself to show a plethora of emotions very freely and readily: happiness, anger, amusement, envy, ambivalence, pride, but never sadness. Never. And he had to maintain his record. As the awesome one, it was his job to refrain from crying, because if he cried, then it would only lower everyone else's spirits even further.

He wasn't going to cry. He couldn't.

And then… then his father went up to speak… and he, of all people, was crying. Gilbert's father was fucking crying, and suddenly it felt like the world was collapsing.

Gilbert's father never cried. In all of his fourteen years, Gilbert had no recollection of his father ever crying, regardless of anything that happened. His father was like Ludwig only even more skilled at suppressing his feelings. He was strong, silent, serious, unable to be shaken by anything, always wearing an iron mask void of any emotional bias.

It was as if everything Gilbert had ever known was now proven wrong. He was frightened, confused. This had to be the apocalypse.

And he, the Awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt, couldn't help but cry as well. He was fourteen years old and he broke down completely, making up for all the years he'd spend determinedly holding in his tears. He managed to stay silent, but the tears were there nonetheless, pouring down his cheeks and dripping onto the front of his pants as he kept his head tilted down. He couldn't bring himself to look up, to see his father crying again. It would destroy his last shred of sanity. He tried to think of something else, anything else, to force the fear and confusion out of his mind, but to no avail. And suddenly he couldn't stand it any longer.

Right in the middle of his grandfather's funeral service, right in the middle of his father's speech, Gilbert stood up and ran out of the funeral chapel. Ludwig glanced between his older brother and their mother in confusion, while their mother stared after her elder son almost in anger. Gilbert may have been rude, obnoxious, and rebellious at times, but when it all came down to it he had no small amount of respect for his family.

After he ran out of the chapel, Gilbert found a bench outside and sat down, desperately trying to make himself stop crying. He was Gilbert-fucking-Beilschmidt! He never cried, damn it!

Suddenly he became aware of someone else approaching him and looked up briefly to see Ludwig before quickly looking away again, trying to hide his tears. "Hey, West," he managed to get out, using his old nickname for his younger brother. Neither of them could remember where that nickname originated from, but for as long as they could remember, Ludwig had been "West" in Gilbert's book.

"Mutti sent me out here," the younger teen informed his brother. "She wanted me to make sure you weren't 'doing anything drastic.'"

"Well, here I am, sitting on a fucking bench outside a funeral chapel. Really drastic."

"Don't be like that." Ludwig furrowed his brow and stared at Gilbert, mildly surprised. "Wow, Gilbert. You're really crying."

"'m not crying. Shut the fuck up." Gilbert turned his head away again and rubbed vigorously at his eyes, trying in vain to rid his face of the evidence.

"Last I checked, crying at funerals is normal, Bruder."

"I don't cry! I'm Mr. Awesome!"

"Or so you say."

"West… Vati's crying."

"I know."

"Vati doesn't cry. I mean, I saw him start crying and I just – it was like my brain broke and the whole fucking universe fell apart or something!"

"You're really shaken up by Vati crying, then."

"Yeah! That's one of those things that just can't happen, you know? I couldn't fucking take it any longer, so I came out here."

Ludwig just nodded briefly.

"Aw, you know what, let's just be pathetic sad buddies. Come here." With that comment, Gilbert gave his younger brother a hug.

"Gilbert… you're not… drunk, are you?" Ludwig asked hesitantly, awkwardly returning the hug.

"Of c-course I'm not drunk, ya idiot! I'm f-fourteen and we've been a-around family this whole t-time…" Gilbert was crying full force again. Fuck his pride, his awesomeness, his stubbornness.

"You're a mess." By this point, Ludwig was on the verge of tears again himself.

"Sh-shut up, West."

That was how the two brothers spent the remainder of the funeral service, hugging each other and crying on a bench. They were still there when the rest of their family members came out of the chapel to leave. Things would return to normal in time, but for Gilbert's concept of life as he knew it, there would always be that little scar at the breaking point.

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**Rushed ending is rushed, I'm sorry! I wrote this story between 1:00 and 3:30 in the morning quite a while ago.**

**Anyway, I perceive Gilbert as the type of person who would idolize his father and have a lot of respect for him as a strong protector, so seeing him show weakness might be traumatic for Gilbert.**

**Reviews will prevent Gilbert from crying ever again in the future. If you do not want to see Gilbert cry, you will review!**


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